


Eric asks her, "How?"

by Mournful



Category: True Blood
Genre: Erotic, F/M, Femslash, Graphic Sex, Sex Positive, Sexy Times, vampire/human sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mournful/pseuds/Mournful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman named Caroline meets Eric Northman at a bar. Sexy times ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eric asks her, "How?"

“This isn’t gonna be some Twilight bullshit right? Like you’re a for real, good old fashioned vampire?” Caroline waited expectantly for his answer. Her tone was all bravado, in reality, her nerves were all alive. It was a mixture of fear, anticipation and desire.  
He smiled slowly and rolled his eyes. “No Caroline. I don’t sparkle, I’m not made of diamond,” he leaned closer to her, her back against the wall, his voice somehow dropped another octave, “and I’m not a vegetarian either.”  
She shuddered, feeling her back ripple against the hard brick wall behind the bar. She couldn’t feel his breath when he wasn’t speaking. His lungs must move air, but only when he wants to. He cocks his head slightly and squints one eye. “You’re worried about the physics of it?”  
Her eyes widen, can he hear her thoughts? Does he know the mixture of emotions she’s experiencing? She asks him directly. “Are you reading my mind?”  
He gives a low chuckle. He places his hands against the wall on either side of her shoulders. She should be scared right? Alone with a supernatural creature in a dark alley, her back against the wall, nowhere to run. It suddenly occurs to her, that the reality of this longstanding fantasy of hers might be more than she’s ready for. But as he leans closer, bends his head to her neck and slowly inhales her scent, she doesn’t feel like prey.  
He whispers, “I’m not reading your mind, I’m reading your body. When you worry, I can feel it in your pulse. When you want me, I can feel it in your pulse. When you’re waiting for me to touch you…” His hand travels from her hip, up her ribs and stops short of her breast. “I can feel it in your pulse.”  
His touch is electric. She’s heard the term before, but now she knows what it means. Somehow her fingers are curling into his hair. He feels perfect, how does he feel perfect? As his hands travel her body, she wonders if this is real. She feels her hips press forward involuntarily. She presses against him. She can feel him hard beneath his jeans. It’s really going to happen, isn’t it?  
Suddenly she pulls back from him. “We’re in an alley, behind a bar.” He plants a hand beneath each ass cheek and pulls her off her feet, off balance and against him. Her breasts would be pushed into his face if he weren’t leaning back to look at her. She places her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. He’s lifting her effortlessly. He looks deep into her eyes.  
She no longer hides the nerves in her voice, “Are you going to glamour me? Oh my god, are you glamouring me right now?”  
His face becomes serious, “Do you feel glamoured Caroline?” The way he says her name, as if she’s the only Caroline in the world.  
“How would I know?”  
A wicked grin appears on his face, “You wouldn’t. But really Caroline, if I had to glamour you, I wouldn’t be worthy of you. Would I?”  
Worthy? Of her? She laughs at herself. “Worthy? I’m just me and you’re… perfect.”  
His grin fades, his tone somber, but his eyes never move from hers. “I’m not perfect Caroline, I’m a killer, a survivor.” His grin returns, “Although, I am a perfect lover. How do you say it now a days? Your place or mine?”  
This is it. She has to make a choice. Run away now, or dive in. She slowly lowers herself, sliding down his body until her face is near his. She leans into him. Her mouth presses against his. At first, he simply returns the kiss, allowing her to lead, but as the seconds go by, he starts to take over. It’s just a kiss, but it’s better than she’d expected. He learned her. In seconds he learned how to kiss her, how she wanted to be kissed. She feels the heat of him through his clothes. As she pulls back just slightly, intermingling her words with touches of her lips and tongue on his, “I thought you would be cold.”  
His speech is as halted as hers, but she can feel his humor in his words. “I thought you said I was hot.”  
He sets her down and pulls her more closely to him. Her pulls her head against his chest. He reaches down below her hips and presses them firmly against his own. He wants her, that much is certain, he’s ready. As she finds herself writhing instinctually against him, he asks again, “You still haven’t answered my question. Your place or--” She cuts him off by reaching down to the front of his jeans. Her hand traces the outline of his erect cock under his pants. There is a slight growl in her voice, “Yours.”  
He blurs, and then he’s beside her, his arm around her waist, the both of them facing back towards the door to the bar. “Let’s get your coat. We’ll need it.”  
Caroline briefly wonders why, but the only thing she can think of is how he’ll feel against her. If he learned her lips so quickly, how long will it take for his hands to learn the rest of her?  
They walk purposefully towards the coat check. The crowd parts for them, like waves pulling away from the shore. At the counter she hands the attendant her ticket. She barely notices until the third “miss?” that the attendant has her coat. “Oh,” she says, “Sorry.”  
The attendant looks up at Eric. “Oh no worries, I get it.” There’s a look of longing in his eyes. She swears that if this man could reach across the counter he’d rip Eric’s shirt right open. She feels a wave of heat pass through her as she imagines doing the same thing. She puts on her coat. Eric looks down approvingly. “Cute.” He says, “But we’re going to need something more substantial.” He locks eyes with the attendant. “What’s your name?”  
The man answers as if in a trance. Eric must be glamouring him. “Dylan. I’m Dylan.”  
“Dylan,” starts Eric, his tone gentle yet insistent. “I have a ticket for the most expensive, largest mens trenchcoat you have back there.”  
“Of course,” replies Dylan, not fully present. He returns moments later with a coat just as Eric described. Eric takes it gently. He offers his hand to Dylan, a parting gesture. Dylan’s hand clasps around Eric’s. Caroline knows what that must feel like. As Eric slides his hand out of Dylan’s, Caroline can see him lightly tracing his fingertips against Dylan’s palm. “No Dylan, it’s not out of the question.”  
Dylan gives a little shudder. His breath comes a bit quicker. Caroline gets it now, to a degree. She can’t read Dylan’s mind, but his body has plenty to say.  
As Eric guides her into the dark street, He takes the trenchcoat and hands it to her. “Put this on, like a blanket. Make sure to cover your head and hands.”  
As she starts to follow his instructions, she asks, “Why, exactly?”  
“You don’t want to get windburn do you?” With that he scoops her up in his arms, as if to carry her over a threshold. The metaphor holds, she knows her life is about to change forever. She pulls the large coat up to cover her head and hands as directed and then she’s moving. She can hear the wind rush by her, she can feel momentum, but she’s not being jostled. No matter how quickly he must be moving, he’s holding her steady and smooth for the entire ride.  
Abruptly, but gently, she finds her feet lowered to the floor. He takes the coat off of her and casually flicks it away. It travels a good few feet before landing over the back of an expensive black couch. She looks around her. Centuries of wealth are hidden behind an understated elegance. She feels as if she’s walked into one of those dream homes from the H&G channel.  
“Do you like it?” He asks. It must be rhetorical. He knows how great this place looks.  
She nods, “I like you more.” She can feel herself getting wet. Her breathing comes quick and shallow. She doesn’t know how to start. How do you make love to a centuries old supernatural creature?  
He takes the guesswork out of it for her. He blurs and he’s directly in front of her; the palm of his hand pressed firmly against her sternum. The outer edges of his hand rest against her breasts. Her heart beats faster, she wants him, she wants… she doesn’t know how to express it.  
He asks her idly, “Does this top have sentimental value to you?” She tries not to stammer, “No.” His hand blurs again and her shirt is ripped open and cast aside. Her skirt flies towards the other side of the room, just as fast. He steps back to look at her, mostly naked before him, “I made the same assumption about your skirt. I hope that’s alright.”  
She reaches around back and unhooks her bra. She drops it on the ground, and slides her underwear off her hips. She kicks them to the side with one foot. “This is one of my favorite sets.” He grins again. She feels his eyes on her, tracing every curve and line of her body, studying, learning her before he’s even touched her. “Lovely.” The word sounds almost like a prayer coming from him.  
Her confidence immediately boosted, she looks into his eyes, grins wickedly back at him. “How about you? Do these clothes have sentimental value to you?”  
He laughs, “No Caroline, they don’t. I only wear them to prevent traffic accidents.” He winks at her. She reaches for the center of his shirt with two hands, she tries to rip his shirt open and off, but it’s harder than it looks. She manages to snap a few buttons off; One of them bounces off her cheek. She blushes, this isn’t the sexy she was going for. “Here,” He says, “Allow me.” Another blur and his clothes are gone. Then she finds herself lifted off the ground again, her back against the wall, his cock resting against her thigh. She has a moment of trepidation. “It’s not Twilight right? You’re not going to lose control and hurt me right?” His hands freeze where they are, one behind her neck, the other under her and supporting her. His eyes become hard, there’s a flash of irritation behind them, but she knows it isn’t directed at her. The irritation bleeds over into his voice, “Twilight is misogynistic bullshit written by one of the most self-loathing vampires I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”  
Caroline is taken aback for a moment, “She’s a vampire!?” She feels him grow less hard against her thigh. Fuck it, she didn’t come here to talk about vampires. She kisses him, passionately, hungrily. He returns it, letting his hands roam more freely. But then he stops and pulls back a bit. “Know that I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t do anything you don’t want.”  
She nods, “Ok, so I should just tell you when to stop then?”  
“No.” He sets her down gently again. “How about you tell me where to start?”  
She smiles, “how about you stop fucking around and touch me like you kiss me?”  
He does so. And then for a time she is lost. He blurs. His hands, his lips seem to be everywhere at once. Centuries of experience lead to pleasure like she’s never known. His touch is firm and insistent, but also controlled. She knows he’s not squeezing her as hard as he can. He already knows, he’s already learned her limits. “Eric, I want you, now.”  
“How?” More blurring and she’s facing the wall, his cock insistent between her thighs, waiting for an invitation. The room spins and she’s on the bed, lying atop him. She can feel him between her thighs, still wanting an invitation. Again he spins her. She finds herself on her back, the silk sheets smooth against her skin. He holds himself above her. She can feel him against her, almost entering her, he repeats himself, “How?”  
It’s too much, her body is alive, she wants him, she wants… she knows now. She wants to be taken, to surrender. So she does so. She reaches her hand around to his ass. It’s perfect, as expected. Her other hand wraps around the back of his neck. She pulls herself up and kisses him once, softly. She lowers herself back to the bed, “Use your imagination.” He grins wickedly. As it turns out, his imagination is even more pleasurable than what has come before. Her world blurs from time to time. At some point, he enters her, teasingly. She presses her hips more firmly against his, she wants more. She had no idea, but now she wants everything. She hears a woman moaning affirmatives, then realizes it’s her own voice. She’s close, so close now. She doesn’t want to hold back any longer. She presses her mouth to his ear, “Please, please Eric I want to feel you bite me.” She feels his lips against her neck, he asks, yet his voice is hopeful, “Are you sure?”  
“Yes!” Her orgasm builds, as if it’s filling every cell in her body, “Please I want you to feed on me while I cum.”  
Needing no further invitation, his fangs sink into her neck, for a moment the pain is incredible, as her body warns her of danger, but then it changes. Her neck starts to feel the same pleasure as her breasts as his hands slide over them and down between their bodies. His fingers steadily encourage her orgasm. And then, she let’s herself go.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real attempt at writing something erotic. Let me know if you got a strong reaction in either direction. :)


End file.
